sunny-side up

[...]

the kitchen’s empty—sort of. empty of bodies, sure, but looking a lot like a hurricane just swept over with the pots and pans out on the counter and floor, bags of chips and bowls of other miscellaneous snackables tucked into every corner and nook, green glass bottles scattered everywhere but together for recycling. it’s an eyesore he tries very hard to ignore. “i take it back. i’m suddenly tired.”

but he doesn’t reach for the broom. he marches straight to the fridge to take out a pitcher of chilled water, pouring out two glasses. leaning against the counter to take in the horrific view, sungwon blinks. “before today i didn’t know anyone here except for woong.” he sounds exhausted. “not sure if any of these assholes are worth claiming as friends.” laughing in disbelief, sungwon taps his glass. “‘cept for you, maybe!”

Whenever alcohol’s involved, there are three basic phases: the pleasant I can now comfortably talk to and/or hit on the next available person on site, the Oh fuck I think I’ve had enough, and the sobriety that comes either due to the inevitable passage of time or an unforeseen circumstance. 

Which is to say that she’s as sober as she’d been before it’d all went down.

That’s not to say that she isn’t stuck at stage one, probably due to the fact that they’re far into the night and way past her bedtime.  Jieun’s championed the flirting aspect by all means possible, which leaves Hyebin with engaging in conversation with someone she’s just met today.  But that’s neither novel or unwelcome.  At least Jieun has good taste this time- Sungwon seems to more intelligent than the rest of the boys she’s chased, combined. 

“I really hope so.  The year isn’t over yet, and I’m not sure if I’m emotionally prepared to do this again.”  Bless anyone who could.  Hyebin shudders at the thought, still scarred by Jieun’s sheer force of will tonight.  Maybe she should really start to take ‘no’ as an answer.

Did she miss something? “What, this?” Guessing what’s caught his attention, one hand consciously touches the extra set of ears on her head.  Not that she’s one to care about whether he finds a moomin headband socially acceptable.  “Let me know if you want a pair too.  I think I still have the half-off coupon laying around somewhere.” She’s only half-kidding.  And, oh- “oh...right.  I hope she wasn’t too heavy.  At least you got your workout of the day in?”

“Water.” A firm nod, affirmative.  There isn’t much foot traffic in the hallway by now; most are passed out in their respective rooms, and some have slunk out, judging by the pile of slippers at the back door.  The house is quiet.  Peaceful.  

...Almost.  She’s definitely not looking forward to cleaning up tomorrow.  “Ugh...” Surprising how much emotion you can convey in a single syllable; it’s about 90% sympathy and 10% mild horror.  

“6/10?” A hopeful approximation.  Thankfully collecting her glass, she takes a big gulp- she’s parched- and offers a truce of a smile.  This time, it’s different than the ones she’s been shooting him for the past few hours.  Less apologetic and more genuine.  “I’m gonna hope I won back some points.” Between the mess, the stench, and a prickle of curiosity, Hyebin glances out the window.

Screw her for making him think it was safe to say no. A simple shake of his head would have shut anyone else up and make them go on their merry way, but nah. Maybe it’s coming back to him, Jung Hyebin being an actual person he’s known in his life. Or maybe she’s just full of life, constantly, larger than he can only currently wish he’d be. What a way to get by every day, huh.

Sangyeop takes notes.

“I…” He buffers, hand moving itself since the rest of his person seems to not have any reason to become unstill. His stomach growls as if on cue, giving them all the more reason to not have a go at this last-minute lunch date. A popsicle wouldn’t entirely suffice at this time, the drip of it down her hand going unattended, the phone more important than anything else. Taking it, he looks at it, blinking like a robot. He doesn’t quite know what to do. “Wh- what,” he manages, quiet in case a call’s already active, free hand making a gesture that’s just as vague as the situation.  

You could consider this one of the many potential bad habits she should be kicking, but what’s the harm in trying to reach out to someone you hardly know?  Aside from the glaringly obvious consequences (ie: what if he’s a serial killer? drug dealer? worst of all, what if he’s an insta-foodie?)

Though at this point, he’s probably suffering more than her.

“noona, are you single?” asked earnestly, there’s nothing particularly “off” about it. a question posed so innocently (paired with a face like his), one would’ve easy brushed it off. haejin, however, didn’t want such a thing brushed off. he was very very very serious about this, out of all things.

so, he asks again. leaning into the marble bar top of yihoon’s kitchen. said owner of the flat off somewhere on a facetime call. today’s dinner menu? ramen.

“are you single?” haejin sports a boyish grin, figurative tail wagging impatiently for a responses. “do you wanna go on a date with my brother? he’s like me, but—better looking.”

a pause. he can’t lie.

“only he’s like, a short 6′0. but he’s gotta sweet car!”

Chopsticks in hand, she’s impatiently hovering around the stovetop.  Ramen’s not a culinary cop-out-- it’s a cultural treasure.  (Plus, she’s starving.)  Busy debating whether an extra helping of green onions is called for, she almost misses the question entirely.

Say what? “Uh.” It’s not a hard question, but it kind of throws her off- especially when she checks to see if there’s a joking expression on his face and finds none.  “Why d’you ask?”

It’s not like she’s dating...per se.  “Ha!” Oh, wait- is he serious about the attractiveness factor?  Maybe she’s just too old to gauge him properly.  She quickly amends with a look of feigned consideration. 

[...]

“a whatta-what?” a slower digestion at her words said, then you see him fighting the urge to turn his head around. and well, good thing for the girl is that it doesn’t take too long before his talent of adapting to make-do situation kicks in.

“oh– right. what’s for dinner? dad said he’s coming in a few minutes as well. you should really get in the habit of coming back with a bag of ice cream instead of nothing, though.”

There’s no real ‘right choice’ here.  If someone had popped up out of the blue at this time of night and fed her a spiel about “stranger danger” (ironic, considering that she’s also a potential threat for all he knows), she’d probably have already booked it by now. So no hard feelings if he decided it wasn’t worth his time.  

To their left, a good number of street lamps light the path ahead of them.  The boy’s still visibly buffering-- this obviously (hopefully) doesn’t happen often.  But what harm can she do, really?  Hyebin’s leggier than most girls, sure, but that’s more of a drawback than anything else.  Lord knows how she’d be able to defend herself without hurting herself first.  Not that any of this reasoning is meant for him, and not that it’d make a convincing argument anyways.

“A weirdo,” she repeats in a stage-whisper, widening her eyes for emphasis.  “Following me.  I mean.” It probably could use some clarification.  To her immense relief it doesn’t take him long to get into the act, steps slowing to a more casual pace beside his.  The footsteps behind them have faltered, though they’re still following behind.  At least he won’t be stupid enough to pull anything drastic, now.  

She hopes.

it’s not the top, not anything close. behind him stands another seven floors stacked up, staggered for modern times’ sake and to serve as a humble reminder of a humbling status. he’s nothing special, wants a sort of nothing that is anything but special, but the view makes all the difference. even if it only lasts for a handful of minutes, each time.

a cool breeze brushes by, thin with a hint of a balmy morning dew that should’ve evaporated off the windows hours ago. in a city this loud, this burgeoning, the quiet that sits here feels like a newfound revelation.

he idly toes a stomped out cigarette that isn’t his, hands in his pant pockets. mid-morning and the sun is half-shrouded by a passing cloud, otherwise clear for as far as the eye can take in the stretch of blue sky. haeil looks this way and that around the rooftop, no padded feline steps to be seen or heard.

“did you chase him away again?”

The pitfalls of a 9-5 (though hours deviate severely and without warning) job are more or less consistent from person-to-person: the physical strain, emotional demand, and lack of any noteworthy stimuli.  Hyebin expects no less, but it doesn’t curb her excitement each time she gets a chance to take a breather.

By mid-morning, her left foot’s fallen asleep and her joints are aching.  Maybe she’s getting old.  Or work’s just aging her.  Or both.  Either way, the stairs leading up to eighth are a welcome reprieve from being planted in a shabby rolling chair for hours on end.  They really need to get to replacing them.  

“Oppa.” Deadpanned, paired with a brief sweep of their surroundings before she confirms it herself-- Asshole is nowhere to be found yet again. “Do you really think I do it on purpose?  I swear he hates me.  He’s never scratched you.”  Which reminds her:

SNU what now?

He doesn’t forget this is the life he’s living. That being said, racking his brain for that particular remnant in the meantime doesn’t come easy. The part about him going to college at all is fuzzy, but for why? Did he really go? And if he did, was it really there? And if it was, can he at least pretend it’s been a while and not never? Sangyeop can only assume from here that they’ll see.

His lips purse in acknowledgment. Feigning slow recognition, more at the matter of fact than of the mystery girl, he nods once and stops in his tracks fully. Grips onto his messenger bag, hand shoved further into his pocket as he studies her from head to toe. It’s more absorbent than observant. “And what of it?” he deems, is safe enough of a lie for this impending doom of a conversation with a stranger-turned-oh-so-you-were-that-girl-all-these-years. What girl, anyway? If not then, then at least now. She doesn’t feel like a threat. Quirky hasn’t been too unwelcome for some years, people of an ordinary walk of life moreso.

What does she know about the guy other than the fact that she’s seen him enough times on the street to remember?

...Yeah, that’s about it.

“You don’t remember me, huh.” Figures.  If they’ve ever talked it’d probably have been to resolve a coffee order mix-up.  The details are hazy, but he’s definitely one of the seniors people have pointed out in conversation- Park, right?  Something like that.  Popsicle a little melty at this point, she adjusts her hold on it to maintain minimal messiness. It drips on the sidewalk instead. Not that anyone’s going to call her out on it.  There are other things that she’s bound to get yelled at for by a very special someone if she doesn’t get back to work soon.  

Hye thinks.